Out of the closet
by Ephy
Summary: "I thought we were over the cupboard thing," he commented. "Though I guess you're still in Gotham, I shouldn't be complaining." (Warnings: Underage, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Discussion about consent & age gap, Slash - Tim/Jason)


_Note: With all the discussion about this pairing, I wanted to write something with them. And what best than having them discuss the consent/underage problem themselves?_

sososo

Tim found Jason in the cupboard. One would have imagined Jason wouldn't have liked closed spaces after having woken up in his own grave but, when pressed, Jason tended to go in hiding, preferably far away in a place where no one could see him.

As he didn't actually want to leave, a closed space was the closest replacement he seemed to find. Tim wondered if that was where he'd hidden as a kid in his own house, when things got bad. It seemed so silly, the big bad Red Hood hiding in a cupboard, and yet…

Tim was mostly grateful to still find him in the flat. The first few times they'd faced crisis, he'd had to hunt him down.

He left the light off and sat down on the ground next to the door without opening.

"I thought we were over the cupboard thing," he commented. "Though I guess you're still in Gotham, I shouldn't be complaining."

No answer. Trying to ignore his own anxiety, he forced his muscles to relax, waiting for a reaction. If Jason hadn't been willing to try again, to make this work, he would have left.

Wouldn't he?

The minutes went by. There was no clock ticking in the flat, nor any digital one flashing angry red numbers in the night. Tim didn't know if those were triggers, but he'd preferred to avoid anything that might be one and had just gotten rid of anything which could look like a countdown. No need to tempt fate.

A slight creaking sound echoed in the silence when the cupboard door opened slightly. Tim felt something relax in his gut. He slid inside the cupboard, pushing a few clothes to sit in the small space Jason had made at his left, letting the door close behind him. The space was cramped, forcing them to press against each other; but it felt more comforting than anything else.

They stayed like this for a while. Tim could feel Jason shaking against him. In the cupboard, it was too dark to see anything, but he could imagine the raging tears on his face - raging because he wouldn't let himself simply be _afraid_. Freaking out meant he was angry, because anger didn't equal weakness. As if strong people couldn't have flaws sometimes.

When it became clear that Jason wouldn't talk first, Tim put a hand on his arm, to warn him as much as to comfort him.

"It was bullshit," he whispered, the cupboard inviting for mutter over normal conversation. "I hope you know that."

There was a few seconds, before Jason shuddered more intensely than before.

"Was it?"

The roughness of his voice made Tim wince. Jason must have been sobbing before Tim had reached the flat for it to be to clearly hoarse.

He fought against the urge of going after Kon with kryptonite, and squeezed his arm.

"It _was_ ," he assured fiercely. "His accusation is so absurd I don't know where to start."

"He had a point, thought, didn't he?"

Tim hated it when Jason sounded so… resigned. As if his own unworthiness had been proven to him, and he knew better than to fight to prove everybody wrong.

"He did _not_ ," Tim insisted, starting to tense with anger at the very _idea_ of it. "How could he even _suggest_ that… That I'm a _victim_ , honestly! He should know better than that. And he might not know enough about you to realize, but to accuse _you_ of all people of being abusive…"

"Except I am," Jason interrupted him. "Legally, I _raped you_."

"Bullshit. The age of consent is 16 in New Jersey, as you very well know."

"Not for siblings, it's not."

Tim rolled his eyes.

"Seriously? We're going to do this? Fine. We were never _raised_ together even if we happen to have been adopted by the same person. Which, I know, is not an excuse, legally, but what about this: you are legally _dead_. If anything, I'm the one guilty of necrophilia."

Tim felt Jason tense even more at those words, and his own heartbeat accelerate with worry.

"It's. Not. About. The. Law," Jason articulated very precisely. "We're fucking vigilantes, the law has never been the _point!_ But the age of consent has been defined for a reason, and, fuck, I know you think you can take your own decisions, you _are_ a capable man, but…"

Tim straightened up, turning on his knees to face Jason, his back hitting the cupboard's door which opened behind him, letting some light in.

"No. _No._ You're _not a rapist_ , Jason, how can you even _think_ …"

"I _am_ in a position to abuse you!" Jason yelled. "You worshipped me when I was Robin, and were _raised_ with me as some kind of fucked up model, with my _case_ displayed in the Cave! You can't just dismiss…"

"I can and I _will_ ," Tim rapped out. "You are only _three years_ older than me…"

"Four."

"Now isn't the time to debate whether to count or not the time during which you were dead!"

They stared at each other in the dark, as if they could will the other to back down. After a while, Tim shook his head. He, too, was starting to shake.

"I honestly can't believe we even need to talk about this. You're _not_ abusing me. I was not even a virgin!"

"It's no fucking _excuse!_ " Jason shouted before closing his eyes, shuddering. "It's no excuse", he repeated softly. "It only makes things worse. Of course someone who's already had sex would think it's normal to keep going. But it's _not_ , Tim. It's not."

Tim felt his anger and worry bubble out in the form of exasperation and, before he could help himself, he blurted out: "You're not my pimp, Jason, you're my _boyfriend_."

Jason didn't even bat an eye.

"Then I should protect you instead of pushing you to…"

"Pushing me to _what?_ To enjoy myself?" Tim asked, his fear of Jason actually _leaving_ over this overcoming his certitude that Jason didn't want to.

Jason tensed again at those, opening his eyes to glare at him.

"Don't fucking tell me sex is all about flowers and butterflies. Just - don't. _It's not_."

Old wounds were blatant in Jason's voice, much more than they usually were. It _hurt_. It hurt because Tim was starting to realize that Jason was really afraid that he was abusing Tim, worse, was afraid that he hadn't realized because his life hadn't been normal enough to give him the sense of what was right and wrong on that matter.

Tim caressed Jason's hair with a trembling hand, letting it linger on his forehead to mop op some of his sweat. His legs and back were starting to protest a bit and he leaned against the side of the cupboard to shift into a more comfortable position.

"I know it's not," he muttered. "But I'm not a street kid who you have to warn out of prostitution. Besides, don't you trust me to know what I'm doing?"

"They thought they knew, too," Jason whispered back, looking away not to cross Tim's gaze.

Tim observed him silently for a couple of seconds. This wasn't going to just go away because he wished it, was it? The problem wasn't what other people thought - he really couldn't care less, even _Kon_ , damn him - but what _Jason_ thought was important.

He nodded.

"Alright. If it makes you that uncomfortable, what about waiting until I'm 18 to do anything sexual? It won't erase what already happened, but…"

He left the sentence unfinished, hoping it would be enough. Jason hesitated. Then, slowly, he acquiesced.

"Y-yeah, okay. It would help. Are you sure -"

Tim had to fight not to collapse from relief. Fuck. That had been a close one.

"Didn't I tell you that I would cut bridges with Bruce and the others if that was needed for us to stay together?" he pointed out. "Do you think anyone else would be more important that family?"

Jason frowned.

"Kon is you best friend." An hesitation, then "And it's not- I'm a mess," he admitted quietly. "It won't be getting better."

Tim pressed his lips to his forehead, knowing how hard it was for Jason to acknowledge that.

"You're a mess at handling yourself," Tim confirmed. "But you're very good at taking care of others, and I'll remind you so next time you make sure I eat or sleep when I'm too busy to think of it myself. _You_ are the one making sure there's always food, that the flat is clean, the dishes made, the clothes washed. And you do that so I don't have to worry about it and can focus on my jobs."

"You'd do it if I didn't," Jason grumbled.

"And would cut that time from my sleep." Tim pressed his forehead against Jason's. "Thanks to you, I don't have to."

Jason didn't quite blush, but Tim could see his embarrassment nonetheless. He smiled.

"I let you take care of my wounds. Let me help with yours."

Jason snorted.

"That was so cheesy."

"Says the one who owns the complete collection of Jane Austen novels. Also - let's finish this conversation out of the closet," Tim suggested, wriggling his eyebrows.

Jason whacked the back of his head, but did follow when Tim stood.

sososo

 _Ending notes:_

 _I hope you liked this! From my personal point of view, Tim is both old enough (and he is, legally) to consent, and too young to realize why it would even be a problem; and Jason would definitively freak out if accused of abusing someone. So...  
Of course, what makes this work is that Jason __do_ _care about not abusing Tim, and doesn't want to._ _Abuse is not something to mock or dismiss._


End file.
